


when you need some love

by Frival



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Boys In Love, Comfort, Fluff, FrUK, Literally just england being sad and france being helpful, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25163197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frival/pseuds/Frival
Summary: france and england just can't not be there for each other
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	when you need some love

**Author's Note:**

> this is a vague rewrite of one of my earlier oneshots that I didn't like  
> songs that inspired this are midnight love by girl n red and like a prayer by madonna

“What are you listening to?”

“Madonna.”

“Of course you are.”

France was, once again, at England’s house with an impulsive visit. This happened often, and neither one of them could really explain why. The only common theme between each visit seemed to be one, or both, of them was feeling particularly desolate and/or was crying. 

Either way, neither of them liked this arrangement. They weren’t supposed to go to each other for anything, but alas they did. France assumed it was because of just how long they’ve known each other. 

“There’s nothing left to hide!” He’d always say whenever England asked.

But here, at this moment, both of them were sat on different ends of the sofa with their legs tangled between them. France quite enjoyed the warmth England’s almost too lanky legs provided. 

“Who are you to judge my music taste?” France closed the book he was holding and took his headphones fully off his head. 

England stopped mindlessly watching the television to squint at France. “I’m just making a statement, no malice behind it.” 

“Be quiet and watch your vampire movie.” France snickered, feeling clever. 

“I didn’t choose to watch this, you did!”

“I stopped watching an hour ago.”

England scoffed, eyes squinting even harder. They were still slightly bloodshot from earlier. France thought back to five hours ago; he had just settled down for the night at his hotel when he got a phone call from the Brit. 

“Can you come over?” he asked, sniffling quietly. France’s heart dropped, much to his annoyance, and he quickly caught the next bus that took him to England’s place. When he arrived, they hardly greeted each other. They sat in the back garden while they smoked and England’s tears dried for about an hour. Then they came inside, drank tea, and started a marathon of awful TV and even worse movies. Next thing France knew, it was a quarter after midnight. 

England was watching the screen again, clearly trying to ignore France’s staring. France wasn’t aware he was staring; he couldn’t help it. He felt comfortable, something similar to content and warmth settling in his chest. The room was hardly lit besides the light coming from the television and an outdated just barely giving off an orange hue. 

France was feeling quite soft at that moment. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said, looking back down at his book but not reading the words. England kicked his foot against France’s thigh. 

“Shut up.” He was purposely looking away from the Frenchman. His ears turned pink. 

“I’m just making a statement.” That got England to give him a sideways glare. 

“Don’t say things you don’t mean, Frog.” 

France looked up and scrunched up his face. “I do mean it! There’s a unique beauty behind those eyebrows.”

England scoffed. “That sounds like a thinly veiled insult.”

“Must you take everything I say and kick it into the dirt?”

“Yes.” 

France shook his head disapprovingly. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re ugly, what’s your point?” England was rested his head on his hand, his nose in mock disgust. France just thought it was cute. 

“Be quiet and let me listen to my music.” England just rolled his eyes in response and looked back to the TV.

They didn’t speak for another thirty minutes, each happy to indulge in the content they were consuming. It wasn’t until France heard a very quiet snivel coming from the man across from him.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” England nodded, wiping his eye with his hand. “Just overthinking.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” 

France understood. England never was one to talk about whatever was upsetting him. Instead of pressing the issue further, he held his hand out. England took it without saying anything, staring intently at the wall. 

They stayed like that until they each eventually fell asleep. Holding hands, France’s thumb rubbing circles into the side of the other’s hand, and England finding comfort in his greatest enemy’s company.


End file.
